Same Ground
by C.M. Oliver is eastwoodgirl
Summary: Sequel to I Remember The Boy. A few months after that fateful meeting in LA, Kurt is back in NY for the opening night of his latest musical. Who comes to return the favor of watching him perform? Song-fic, Future-fic COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1 :Same Ground

**Same Ground**

**DISCLAIMER: Glee is owned by RIB et. Al. If you don't know what those letters stand for, shame on you. The song Same Ground is by Asian artist Kitchie Nadal. Google it, listen to it so you'll know what mood permeates this fic. **

**A/N: Sequel, Yeah! If you enjoyed I Remember The Boy, this is it's much-awaited next installment. But if you haven't read that at all, please do yourself a favor and do so… or you won't get a thing about this story. Anyway, as always, spread the love, spread the Klaine virus and don't forget to review :)**

**010101010**

Kurt Hummel stood quietly by the left wing, behind the solid walls that separated him from the expectant crowd that sat quietly in rows. It was just yet another one of the already many musicals he had performed in since he started his professional Broadway career three years ago – but he couldn't help but feel anxious about this particular night.

It was his first lead role.

Kurt never thought that this time would come. But when the script of 'Self-Denial', a brilliant play about a homosexual man coming to terms with himself after years of self-imposed exile, came into his hands, Kurt immediately signed up to audition. He bagged the lead role of 'Chris', and tonight was the commencement of months of hard work. He got the lead and was opening the act as well.

"Five minutes!" A stiff voice yelled from behind him and knocked Kurt out of his reveries. He began to take deeper breaths to calm himself down.

'_I can do this!'_ He psyched himself up. _'I was born to perform!'_

Suddenly, another voice joined Kurt's own in his head.

'_**You were born to perform, Kurt! I believe in you,'**_

The countertenor closed his eyes briefly, trying to push out the supposedly forgotten happier thoughts of his younger years.

'_**You can do it, Kurt. I love you!'**_

"Three minutes!"

Kurt opened his eyes once more. It seemed easier to forget five years ago, when he had first left for his dreams –he had managed to purge everything that was on his mind on his first year in NYADA and never looked back. But after what had happened three months ago…

'_It shouldn't have happened,'_ Kurt thought ruefully. _'What the heck was I thinking?'_

He came back just to see him, Kurt reasoned out as he entered that moderately packed hotel lounge.

'_Just to see if… if he's doing well,'_

Surely, he had heard about the boy, no, the man, from their friends –that he was a successful advertising practitioner by day and a stellar lounge performer by night… that he was doing okay…

But Kurt knew that seeing him was an entirely different matter.

He had to see Blaine for himself; if the man he had once loved was indeed okay –coping, managing –unlike himself.

Yes, it was he who had walked away, it was he who had wanted it to end –and yet, Kurt found himself probably hurting more, regretting more, wanting more.

So, he had requested that song, trying to gauge the younger man's reaction. When he saw the tears fall from Blaine's hazel eyes, Kurt knew that he had made a terrible, terrible, terrible mistake.

And yet, when Blaine followed him to his car, Kurt couldn't bring himself to say anything that he had meant to say to the man he had once loved –and probably loved still –without making a complete mess of himself.

Instead, he forced out the only coherent words that ran through his head every night since five years ago.

"_**I'm so sorry, Blaine."**_

"Less than a minute!"

Kurt sighed. There was probably no use looking back, but…

The first few bars of his first song came on as the curtains rose. Kurt confidently took the center stage in front of a jam-packed theater. His soft voice then began to fill the air.

_**My love  
>It's been a long time since I cried and left you out of the blue<strong>_

Kurt stared blankly at the sea of faces in front of him; whenever he sang those first few lines, he could feel his heart clench all of a sudden.

_**It's hard leaving you that way when I never wanted to  
><strong>_

Then, his pulse quickens.

_**Self denial is a game it's strange I never would've wanted 'til there was you**_

Kurt closed his eyes as he felt a mixture of raw emotions come crashing through him –like how the early morning waves of the ocean hit the sands of the shore

_**'Cause I have learned that love is beyond what human can imagine,  
>The more it clears<br>The more I gotta let you go  
><strong>_

Kurt had never heard of this song, not until he had begun working on this play. The composer of which, he was told, was different from the playwright himself. It was a new and upcoming independent songwriter who gave this song to the play's author for inclusion. So certainly, Kurt had no idea who it was –but deep within him, it was as if this particular song writer knew exactly how he felt, what he had wanted to say, what he had kept for so long –hidden at the back of his mind, within the depths of his heart, in his constant reveries.

_**'Cause what I don't understand  
>Is why I'm feeling so bad now<br>When I know it was my idea  
>I could've just denied the truth and lied<br>And why am I the only one standing stranded on the same ground**_

Kurt opened his eyes once more –it was already becoming too much. The song tugged at his heartstrings during rehearsals, but now, singing it in full blast, in front of a live audience, it just flooded him with emotions he did not know he had.__

My love  
>It's been a long time since I cried and left you out of the blue<p>

The words stuck to him like feathers on white glue –etched, embedded, tattooed in his every waking moment –like an itch he couldn't scratch

_**It's hard leaving you that way when I never wanted to**_

Kurt felt tears in his eyes swell up as he let his lips move mechanically; the lyrics spewed out of his mouth as if it were programmed to go on auto-pilot –because certainly, he wasn't thinking anymore.__

Self denial is a game it's strange I never would've wanted 'til there was you

Suddenly, the bright klieg lights were too bright for Kurt's blue-green eyes. He felt a single drop of tear escape his eye.

_**'Cause I have learned that love is a word gets thrown a little bit too much  
>The best excuse to fill this infinite abyss<br>I would never ever have to fail**_

Kurt found himself clenching his fists as the chorus came on once more.

_**But what I don't understand  
>Is why I'm feeling so bad now<br>When I know it was my idea  
>I could've just denied the truth and lied<br>And why am I the only one standing stranded on the same ground**_

When he felt like he suddenly couldn't breathe anymore, Kurt took his first step since after coming on stage: he stepped forward. The spotlight was now no longer directly at his eyes. As the instrumental part came on, he took those few precious moments to collect himself. He let his eyes roam and connect with his audience; they looked back at him in varying stages of appreciation: indifference, curiosity and apprehension. But Kurt no longer cared how he looked or how they perceived him. He had just wanted to get the whole thing over and done with. He was about to turn his back away from the sea of strange faces, when the light and his eye caught one that was quite familiar. Kurt Hummel, for the first time in his still young Broadway career, froze in his spot on stage –the chorus came on again but he was too shocked to even open his lips, let alone sing it.

Those familiar hazel eyes seemed to have zapped him like a freeze gun right in the middle of his opening act, in his lead Broadway debut –the same familiar hazel eyes that used to ignite his senses some years back… some three months ago –the same hazel eyes that belonged to a handsome face that was now awashed with concern; The only one amongst the crowd that Kurt could say actually knew how he was feeling at that very moment…

And then, it hit him.

He now knew the identity of his mystery songwriter.

'_Of course,'_ Kurt thought, a sad smile crept up his face without him noticing it. He had to finish the song –and he had to make it good. He owed it to him… he owed him.

The countertenor spun around gracefully and walked back towards the center of the stage. He recovered as he took slow, lingering steps.

_**If all else fails  
>Would you be there to love me?<strong>_

'_You were always there, how can I have failed to notice that?'_

_**When all else fails  
>Would you be brave to see right through me?<strong>_

'_You have always felt with me. You have always seen me through every up and down. You have always known me, more than I ever knew myself,'_

The last bars of the song took forever in Kurt's perspective. When the last note was done, he sneaked another glance at the crowd. Right then and there, he had wanted nothing more than for the whole play to just end. He couldn't wait until he could just jump off the stage…

The hazel eyes were gone.

Kurt felt his guts twist into a knot. Had he missed the point? He then felt the sudden urge to just run off and search for those eyes… and then maybe, maybe if he looked into them once more, everything would be alright. But Kurt knew it wasn't going to happen, not tonight when the remainder of his life rested on this one show.

He just had to grin and bear it.

For now.

The show must go on, as the cliché goes.

**010101010**

**A/N: I know it's kind of hanging where I've left it off, but… I would like to know if there is enough interest for a continuation before I proceed. If you want more, please tell me in a review. If I get like, five or more, I may add another chapter or two to this. But for now, I'll mark it as complete. So remember, review, review, review! Until next time - Eastwoodgirl**


	2. Chapter 2: Peach and Reds

**Same Ground**

**A/N: I'm back! Thanks to those who loved and enjoyed chapter one. Your reviews keep me going even if I'm strapped to a hospital bed with nothing to keep me company but my IV drip and my smuggled laptop. Your love and support are like chicken soup for my soul. Enjoy this chapter and don't forget to review!**

**DISCLAIMER: Anything you recognize does not belong to me.**

**Chapter 2: Peach and Reds**

**010101010**

Standing ovation.

But Kurt couldn't care any less. As soon as the hem of the thick red curtains kissed the polished wood of the stage floor, the counter tenor made a mad dash for his dressing room.

Luckily, he had the lead role; that afforded him a private room that he so desperately needed at that point. Before he could even turn the knob though, the tears that he had been holding back since the beginning of the show already started to fall. The salty droplets caused his mascara to run and his foundation to smear, but he couldn't care any less. Kurt heaved a heavy sigh as he pushed the door that bore his name open. He then mechanically walked towards his makeup chair, in front of the mirror. _'God, I look like a mess,'_ He thought to himself. _'I feel like a total wreck,'_ He sighed as he reached for the nearest box of tissues and carefully dabbed around his eyes and nose.

He had just finished a successful opening night –he should be crying tears of joy –not of loss. He then discarded the damp piece of tissue paper by crumpling it into a small ball and tossing it into the nearest waste basket. Kurt was then about to reach for another sheet when a knock on the door was heard. And before Kurt could even say: "come in," it swung open.

"Kurt?" It was one of the many stage aides that Kurt keeps forgetting the names of. He quickly grabbed another tissue before facing the woman.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering where you would want these –" the female aide then disappeared behind the doorway partly, as if reaching for something. When she came back in Kurt's line of vision, half her body was covered by a huge arrangement of red roses. Kurt's eyes shot up.

"Are –are those for me?"

The female aide then set the huge vase down on an empty spot on top of the boudoir. She smiled.

"Do we know any other Kurt Hummel around here?" She joked. "There's a card in there somewhere if you don't want to take my word for it," the woman then began to walk away.

"Congratulations by the way, it was a very moving performance," she said, winking at him, before completely disappearing by the door and closing it behind her. But Kurt was too busy staring at the flowers to even hear or notice her. Kurt stood up slowly from his makeup chair, not taking his eyes off of the flowers. It seemed just like a regular arrangement of about three dozen red roses at first, but upon looking closely, Kurt noticed that a single peach-colored rose was nestled among the reds. HE frowned as he tried to figure it out. Then, remembering what the female aide had said, he searched for the card that came with the flowers.

Kurt did not know why, but his hands shook as he reached for the ivory-colored card stock. His name was written in an elegant and yet, familiar cursive on the front. It was for him alright. He then took a deep breath before opening it and reading the message inside, written in the same familiar script:

_**I'm sorry I didn't stay. I thought that I would only be distracting you if I did. But those few minutes that I did get to see you were brilliant. You were breath-taking on the stage, Kurt. The way you sang that first song I wrote… I cannot even begin to describe how I feel. I'm proud of you, Kurt. I have always wanted to come and see you perform but I would always shut the idea down, thinking that after you left for NYADA, that you did not want to see me at all. But three months ago when you came to see me, when you asked me to sing that song, when you practically ran away from me again –I made up my mind.**_

_**I know how important your dreams are for you. I never meant to make you feel that you had to choose. You never had to, Kurt. You never had to leave. I love you. I never stopped loving you after all these years. And no matter how long it takes, I will always be waiting for you.**_

_**I hope you like the flowers. I have never forgotten that peach-colored roses were your favorite – that's why I had one peach-colored rose added in. Red roses were common, you once said –everybody gives and receives them –but peach roses are special. Just like you are, Kurt. You are that one peach rose amongst the sea of red roses.**_

_**And if you ever decide to give me another chance –to hold you and love you again, I will be waiting for you, as you read this letter, until midnight tonight, in the middle of the theater. Bring that peach colored rose if you still want to give us another chance. If I don't see you, I will understand and leave you be.**_

_**Nevertheless, whatever you decide, know that my heart belongs to you and you alone.**_

_**Blaine**_

Kurt felt his heart clench as he dropped the card. He stole a glance at the innocent peach-colored rose in the elegant vase, then at himself in the mirror.

Another knock woke him out of his stupor.

"Kurt?" it was the same aide. Kurt acknowledged her with a wuick nod.

"Aren't you going to head out soon? It's already late –"

"Wait, is the main theater closed already?" Kurt asked. The female aide raised an eyebrow but answered him nonetheless.

"Yes, why, did you forget something in there? I could ask –"

"What time is it?" Kurt asked again as he quickly grabbed a moist towel and began removing his messed up makeup.

"Well," the female aide glanced at her wrist watch. "It's already 11:30 …"

"WHAT?" Kurt bolted up from his seat, dropping the moist towel. The aide frowned at him.

"Yeah, why, something the matter?"

Kurt did not answer her but instead hurriedly wiped his face of all traces of makeup. The aide sighed.

"'Kay, well, I'll go. 'Night Kurt,"

For the second time that night, Kurt did not seem to even notice her leave. The countertenor's attention was busy fleeting from the solo peach rose, the card on the floor, and then his face in the mirror.

He had to make a decision.

**010101010**

**A/N: Cliffhangers are the best writing inventions ever! XD Will Kurt meet up with Blaine? Will he be able to remove all that make up in time? Will I get ten reviews for this chapter before I continue on with the final chapter? It's up to you, my lovely readers. Review, flame whatever… Until next time! - EWG**


	3. Chapter 3: Midnight

**Same Ground**

**A/N: Argh! Kill me now! It's been ages. The only excuse I have is that life happened and steamrollered all over my plans for writing and updating. But I do want to knock off one in-progress story off of my mounting list… so, here you go, the concluding chapter. Many thanks to those who have read, reviewed, favorited and alerted this story. Please enjoy the last one in this saga and don't forget to review some more. Seriously. Review, or I will kill my alter ego that lives and breathes Klaine.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, thank you.**

**WARNING: The usual. Fluff and all the good stuff.**

**Chapter 3: Midnight **

**010101010**

The auditorium was dark –void of any light, pitch-black.

Somewhere, a clock chimed.

'_Midnight,'_ Kurt thought. _'Am I late?'_ He had spent the last thirty minutes removing all traces of makeup and tears from his face –that and contemplating his decision and gathering up his courage.

Kurt groped for the light switches that he knew were situated by the back entrance to the stage. A few more seconds of blind darkness, he eventually found them. He flicked them on.

Kurt's eyes immediately scanned the stage, the opera box, the audience area…

It was empty.

Kurt felt tears forming around his eyes.

'_Am I really too late?'_

"You came," a subdued voice came from behind the countertenor. Kurt spun around hastily and in the process, dropped what he was holding.

"B-Blaine?"

Blaine emerged from the shadows and smiled ruefully.

"Hey, Kurt." The dark-haired man then moved towards the slightly trembling from of his ex-boyfriend. Kurt gaped.

"I –I –"

"I would have never left anyway," Blaine whispered. "Even if you did not come by before midnight, I'd still be here, unless…" Blaine reached out and brushed hi fingers against Kurt's flushed cheeks. "I missed you, Kurt."

Kurt swallowed, their sudden contact, sending shivers sown his spine.

It's been a while… too long while.

"Blaine…"

"Shh…" Blaine shushed him and gently placed a finger against Kurt's soft lips. His hazel eyes stared deeply into Kurt's blue-green ones. The older man couldn't help but feel as if he was being devoured alive by those gorgeous hazel irises. A lot of things were rushing through his head… a lot of things unsaid that should come to light.

"Blaine," he tried to speak again. But this time, the younger man tried a different approach into silencing him.

Blaine kissed him.

Five long years of being apart were all forgotten as soon as their lips touched. Blaine's lips probed gently, but Kurt could still feel the heat, passion and need in the man he once loved –and loved still.

Yes, he still loved Blaine. And all those years away from him, Kurt never stopped loving him, he figured out.

He needed to tell Blaine.

Kurt pushed Blaine away gently, simultaneously feeling cold at their sudden loss of contact. He eyed Blaine, took the man's hands in his own and sighed.

"I need to tell you something, Blaine,"

Blaine's eyes registered confusion at first, then switched into understanding. Kurt sighed in relief. He turned away from Blaine momentarily and bent over to pick up the object he had dropped a while ago. With another deep breath, he turned to Blaine and presented him… a rose.

**010101010**

Blaine eyed the rose in Kurt's hand and bit his lip. He took the rose…

A red rose.

Not peach.

Kurt was telling him to go.

Blaine forced a smile as he rolled the thorn-laden stem between his thumb and forefinger. His heart sank, but he couldn't very well show that vulnerability right now. He took a deep breath.

"I guess I had my answer." Blaine said quietly. He nodded at Kurt briefly before turning to leave.

"Blaine –what –wait!"

Blaine spun around slowly. What could Kurt possibly want more? He felt a pair of hands hold him back. Kurt had a confused look on his face, which Blaine was sure, mirrored his own.

"Yes, Kurt?"

Kurt eyed him, then the red rose in his hand and shook his head.

"You don't get it, do you?" The countertenor asked. Blaine frowned.

"Get what, Kurt?" he asked softly, trying to force out the bitterness in his voice. He then gestured to the rose in his hand. "It's red."

Kurt sighed.

"It is."

"Then I have no more business of being here, Kurt. My feelings remain unchanged, but…" Blaine let the rest of his words drop as he started to pull away from the hands of the only man he ever loved, but Kurt's grasp held him firmly on his spot.

"I'm not special," Kurt whispered. Blaine eyed him. Kurt had a small smile on his delicate features.

"I'm not special, Blaine." He repeated. Then, meeting the hazel eyes, he continued.

"I am nothing without you, Blaine." Kurt then reached for the red rose and took it in his own hand.

"You are the one who makes me special. Without you, I am just like this read rose: ordinary, transitory… one of the many… It is you who makes me who I am Blaine, and without you, I can never be myself."

"Kurt…" Blaine was stumped. Kurt bit his lip, as if trying not to cry. He let the red rose drop onto the floor once more and took Blaine's hands in his once more.

"I was hoping you'd take me back again, Blaine. Turn me into that peach-colored rose once more…"

Kurt never finished the rest of his words as his lips were once more sequestered by those of a teary-eyed Blaine Anderson.

"God, Kurt," Blaine whispered against their connecting lips. "I'd –I want –God –I love you so much, I don't know –You –You don't know how much you mean to me –"

Kurt pulled away slightly from Blaine's lips and replaced it with his finger on the dark-haired man's mouth.

"You don't need to say anything, baby. I was a jerk to you. I'm sorry… but please take me back."

Blaine then smiled –a genuine, heartfelt smile –his first in a long, long time. And going by Kurt's orders, without another word, he took the older man back –back in his arms, back into his life, back into his heart –with a long, passionate kiss, right on the stage that fueled many of their dreams and heartaches alike. A "stage kiss" that was real as real could get.

*****FIN*****

**010101010**

**A/N: Done! Another story complete! Woohoo!**

***does an annoying jig***

**Darwin: Stop dancing! You're giving me a headache!**

**Chesca (me): Klaine shipper, everyone, meet my best (rolls her eyes) friend Darwin.**

**Darwin: Your two hours on the computer is up. You heard the doctor, your hands need rest! And frankly, so does mine!**

**Chesca: Not my problem, your hands that is.**

**Darwin: You just made me type this chapter! Over 1000 words!**

**Chesca: Aww… but you love me, you really do… that's why you do my dirty work!**

**Darwin: *rolls his eyes* I do stuff for you because I pity you. And I don't love "love" you. I can't. I'm gay.**

**Chesca: And I'm bi…**

**Darwin: really, we should stop this nonsense and let your wonderful, ever-patient readers review!**

**Chesca: Yeah! *turns to her readers* Please review this story. Any way thanks to those who have reviewed the previous chapters and those who will review this one. I love it when people appreciate the hard work I put into my written works…**

**Darwin: *coughs***

**Chesca: *ignores Darwin* and most especially to those who can appreciate my sense of humor**

**Darwin: What sense of humor? Your sense of humor is so dry, it needs water-based lube to function… **

**Chesca: *makes a face and sticks her tongue out***

**Darwin. Childish, brat. And don't you think it is wrong to have your Author's notes longer than the chapter itself?**

**Chesca: *throws the laptop charger at Darwin***


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